The End Of Days

Chapter 20 ~ We Are Not Done Yet

THEN:

Sam's face changed, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips formed into a tight line, and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned further into the door frame, holding onto it with his right hand in a vice grip.

"No ... god, no ... not now ...", was all he managed to get out before he dropped to his knees with an agonized cry.

Dean was on his feet and in front of Sam on his knees in a matter of seconds. The hunter cradled the younger man's face in his hands, trying to get him to look at him.

Another yell, and Sam cramped. The hunter let him slump against him, wrapping one arm around the hooker's middle and laying one on the back of his head. Sam pressed his face into Dean's shoulder, trying to suck in a breath.

"What do we do?", Dean asked panicking, as the wereman appeared beside them on his knees, laying his hand flat on Sam's back.

He shook his head. "Nothing. He has to ride it out."

NOW:

Dean cradled the limp body of the young man in his arms. The hunter held him close – so close. What started out as spasms and cramps, ended up in a full-body-seizure with heart-wrenching cries and yells and ebbed away with a total collapse, loss about the control over his bodily fluids and heart-tearing whimpers and moans.

The hunter finally brought himself to ease his grip on Sam, who was heavily panting and weeping.

"It's okay, Sam.", Dean whispered gently, "I'm gonna get you on your bed, okay?"

The hunter waited for a respond, but got nothing more than a choked sob.

"Fine. - So ... just hang on and let us do all the work." Yes, he said WE, but actually meant no one else but himself.

With Garth's help, he got Sam back on his feet, and scooped him up in his arms, shifting and tugging until he was sure he got him right. Short puffs of warm air ghosted over the hunter's exposed neck, as Sam's head lolled into the crook of his neck.

Garth knew better than even suggest to help him carrying the young nephilim. He was a were and able to smell scents that others couldn't. He knew about pretty every nuance of smell on the hunter by now. The only ones he hadn't smelled yet were anger and rage ... and Garth honestly didn't want to find out what the hunter smelled like when he was angry.

So he went for the bedroom-door and held it open, so that Dean could get Sam inside and on the bed without hindrances. He ever so carefully lowered him on it, letting the younger man's head sink back into the fluffy pillow.

Sam groaned and squeezed his eyes shut with a silent whimper as he rolled to his side, curling up in the very moment and cupped his head in his hands, shifting them until his eyes were covered and no light was coming through them anymore.

The hunter sat down beside him on the very edge and tugged the comforter over him, rubbing gentle circles with his flat palm into the man's back.

Garth came short after, with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. There was written "morphine" on the label. He popped one of the pills into his palm and squat down beside the bed.

"Sam?", the wereman asked silently, well knowing that the nephilim's head was about to explode. "I got your pills."

Sam's eyes opened to small slits.

"You gotta sit up, boy." Garth slipped a hand under his friend's neck to support him, but Sam refused to move just a bit. "You wanna swallow it dry?"

The young man's nod was barely noticable, but Garth knew Sam by now. So he also knew what he had to look out for.

"Open up."

Sam did what he was told and opened his mouth. He closed it again when he felt the pill on his tongue and swallowed – hard – to get it down.

Dean just sat there and watched, continuing to rub gentles into Sam's back, wich were meant to soothe him.

Castiel stood beside them, eying the young man on the bed and the hunter.

"He'll be out cold for a couple of hours as soon as the pills start to kick in." Garth sighed and sniffed, sitting back on his haunches beside the bed.

"I think we should not waste any more time, Dean." Castiel's face was dark, his eyes the color of the silent sea before the storm. "We need to get him to Jo. - She can help." The angel laid his hand on Sam's forehead. "It's going to kill him if we don't get him proper help."

Dean looked back up over his shoulder at his angel-friend with a concerned gaze. "We'll do." He caught the wereman's gaze. "You're comin' with us, aren't you?"

Garth chuckled and shook his head. "Nah – I'm not."

The hunter looked at him worriedly. "They're gonna kill you or worse."

The short man sniffed and sighed. "Look ... I'm not sayin' that I don't appreciate your concern about me. - BUT ... I'm used to be free, I'm used to let the wind wave around my snout. I'm a drifter. And the only reason why I actually stayed in this place for that long ...", he trailed off, his gaze falling onto Sam. "Besides: These bastards would have to find me first. And I honestly doubt that they'd be able to ..."

"Sam won't like that." In case the wolfman hadn't recognized, Dean thought he would remember him.

"Sure he won't. - He'll get over it." Garth grinned and sat back on his butt. "I'd suggest you take off as soon as Sam wakes up. - I just want you guys to take good care of him ..."

It took not longer than half an hour until Sam's whimpers subsided and he finally dozed off.

Dean kept a close eye on him, not leaving his side the entire time.

Four hours later, the sun was already setting at the horizon, Sam made his first signs of awaking. The hunter immediately straightened up in the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on the bulge under the comforter.

Incoherent mumbling, interrupted by desperate whimpers let his heart clench and his ribcage tighten. Dean tightened his grip on the bulge under his hand, what had to be Sam's bicep and shook him carefully.

"It's okay, Sammy. - You're not alone ..." The hunter was about to ease his grip on him, when he felt a hand covering his and squeezing it tightly. "Just take it easy. - We don't need to hurry."

After a while, Dean's sitting position on the bed started to tear on his muscles, but he also didn't want to let go of Sam. So he did the only logical thing and laid down on the very edge of the bed, shifting and tugging himself close against Sam's back.

Completely unfortunately the younger man inched towards the other side of the bed and turned around, so that he was facing the hunter, but still didn't open his eyes. Sam snuggled into the soft pillow, holding Dean's hand in his.

Soon Sam settled back into a deeper sleep again and Dean followed short behind.

When Sam first started to surface from the drug-induced sleep, he felt a light throbbing pain in his head. The comfortable warmth from the comforter under wich he was tugged in, and a body right in front of him. An arm slung around his middle, holding him close.

Sam snuggled further into the soft fabric in wich his face was buried, giving a low animal-like purr as he nestled even closer. Sam didn't open his eyes, nor wanted to see who the burning furnace beside him was. May as well the morphine did its part on that anyway.

Dean didn't doze much longer. As soon as he felt something snuggling with a gentle force into his chest, his senses kicked in and his eyes flew open.

A small smile formed on the hunter's lips as he spotted the chestnut-brown mop of hair beneath him and he tightened his hold on Sam unconsciously as if to proof to his mind that he was really there. That he hadn't fled from him while he slept.

"Sam?", Dean asked hoarsely and yawned. "You awake."

A silent "Uhu.", came back.

"Sam ... we gotta get on the road." No, the hunter didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed. But they had to. They had to get going as soon as possible. Before wherever angels or demons would be able to find them. "They're on ya' heels."

Sam rubbed his nose against the hunter's chest and turned his head to the side, so that his ear was resting right above his heart.

"I mean it ..." No, the hunter didn't sound convinced about himself right then. "We need to get going."

Sam smacked his lips, still refusing to open his eyes. "Don't want to ...", he muttered.

The hunter chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Guess you and Cas can hold hands when it comes about to be stoned ..." His eyes darkened for a moment. High likely Sam wouldn't let himself being hold by the hunter like this if he haven't had morphine in his system. Maybe he'd be disgusted instead of comfortable ...

All of a sudden, Sam's muscles tensed and the younger man's eyes flew open. His pupils dilated, his iris thin and barely visible. His face paled in the very moment.

"They're here ...", he breathed and sat up streight. "They're here ...", he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and sharp, his features changing into something dangerous.

Dean hadn't time to react, nor focusing on what his mind was yelling at him right then. "What? Who?"

"Angels.", Cas stated and tossed the hunter's duffel beside him on the floor. He then went for the window and lurked outside. "They're close. - Somewhere out there."

"Aren't they supposed to be friends?" Dean got to his feet, hand on the gun in his holster. "I mean ... ya' know ... after all."

"Dean, honestly? - I grounded my brothers and sisters upstairs. I cut off the ones on earth from their family. I don't think they wanna be friends with me. - And specially not with the human who messed up the archangel's plans in the first place ..." Castiel looked at him with big blue kitten-eyes.

"Okay then ... what do we do?", Garth appeared behind them, his hands morphed into dangerously looking paws and sharp claws.

"We try to talk to them. Ask what they want ..." Stupid question anyway since they already KNEW what they wanted. They wanted Sam. Probably dead and his head on a stick.

"I think it would be more clever if we don't wait for them to arrive at our doorstep, Dean. - They are in the majority.", the angel spoke up, letting his blade slide out under his sleeve to grab it at the hilt.

"How many, Cas?" Dean looked at his friend worriedly.

"Twelve. Maybe thirteen.", the angel answered with a frown. "If we go, we need to go now. The Impala is parked at the backside. - They probably haven't noticed us yet."

"You go, I'll stay." Sam straightened up. "They won't follow you."

Dean snarled and turned around, facing the swaying figure on the other side of the bed. "Hell you are. - You're comin' with." He looked at the wereman, who actually seemed to start to reconsider his choice to stay ... or carry on on his own. "You too. - No one gets left behind."

Garth gave them a short nod. "I won't get into the car. - I'll follow you guys on four paws." He looked into the round. "I can't lose your tracks. - You stink catastrophically ..." He gave them a smirk. "And you?", he looked at Sam. "You're comin' with. - Any word against it, and I'll make you."

Sam stared at the wereman bewildered.

"Fine. - Then let's go ...", Dean said, checking with a single look on each one of his friends, his gaze on Sam lingering a little bit longer. Then he winked at him with a small grin.

On their way out, they grabbed Sam's back pack, and Dean's duffel, taking the way over the small back yard, leaving everything else behind.

Garth turned, while he ran into scrubby fur on four paws, waiting for the two-legs to get into the car.

"Sam, Cas. Backseat.", the hunter ordered, as he tossed his duffel and Sam's back pack on the driver's seat.

Sam stumbled after them, tossing the rear-door open and slumping down on the backseat. Cas jumped in and slammed his door shut, when Dean already turned the ignition and his baby's engine roared to life.

They left Tucson behind them. Mile after mile turned down on the mileage as they headed north, a shaggy furred wolf following them, always keeping the black car in his line of vision.

Castiel sat on the backseat behind the passenger's side, staring out of the window and from time to time over his shoulder through the rear-window. Sam sat behind Dean, his head resting against the cool window, his eyes closed, desperately trying to hold the nausea at bay.

Finally – what seemed like an eternity – the hunter spoke up. "Cas?", he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

The angel's head snapped up. "Yeah?"

"You think they know that Sam was there? - You think they'll be able to track him down?" the hunter's voice was insecure and worried.

Castiel shook his head, pulling a small bag with tobacco and papers from his jacket. "I didn't see that he's different from any other human. - I think they would have just gotten lucky if they found him in in Tucson. I rather think they followed the demons over there, maybe even interrogated one ..." He seemed pensively, while he fixed himself a joint. "... No one besides a nephilim himself could tell who's one of his own kind." Then he added a not so convinced "I think ..."

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror another time, trying to catch a glimpse at the nephilim, but all he saw were closed eyes and even breaths that fogged the window. Though he could tell that the man wasn't asleep.

"Sam? - How're you holding up?", he asked, flashing another concerned gaze into the mirror.

"'m fine.", Sam muttered and sniffed. "Just a headache."

The hunter stole a glance at his duffel on the passenger's seat and back into the mirror, to catch his angel-friend's gaze.

"There're some painkillers in my duffel.", he said, before he turned his focus back on the road before him.

The night was already dawning and he had to slow down. He couldn't bear to ruin his baby through bumping into a walker or a whole horde of them. It would take them definitely a while longer, since Dean planned to stop a couple of times, just so that Sam was able to stretch out his long legs, to catch some fresh air and to eat something.

Sam looked exhausted, drained. He looked like a cancer-patient short before his terminal stage. Okay, maybe not that bad at all, but he looked horrific.

"There're two water bottles in there too. Sam?", he glanced into the rearview mirror again. "You gotta drink."

"You drive, I'll take care of Sam, Dean." Castiel lunged forwards and grabbed the duffel, getting it onto the backseat.

Dean just huffed and sniffed, checking on the fields to his left, catching a glimpse of reflecting orbs in the high withered grass.

The wolf would need to take some rest soon too. No way the small scrawny guy would be able to hold the pace wich Dean was presenting.

... to be continued

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